A Faith Story

Daddy, Daddy

Last Saturday as I sat on our porch enjoying the wonderful weather and a warm cup of chai, I heard conversations among the family down the street. A few minutes later I heard the searching call of what sounded like a toddler boy, “Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?” The cries seemed to be never-ending, each one with a different inflection. But it was so sweet. The boy was clearly searching for his father; not frantically, but certainly with determination and persistence.

But then I thought about what the dad might be thinking about those cries. If he’s anything like me, he might be so caught up in what he’s doing that those cries aren’t sweet and endearing, but instead an interruption. A break in concentration that rubs him the wrong way and forces an abrupt and irritated reaction. But that’s only if he’s like me – the me that I’m not always so proud of.

Then I had another thought. What if he’s more like our heavenly Father? Unlike my selfishness, the Father welcomes our searches, our cries for His presence. He never asks us to wait for a better time, doesn’t get irritated by our desire to be near him. I’m so thankful that He’s even more interested in having a relationship with me than I ever could be. And I hope that if I ever get the opportunity to be a parent myself that He’ll help me to be more like Him.

Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live.
Psalm 116:2

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